Becoming Mine
by livingonadream
Summary: Peeta Mellark has been long-time best friends with Finnick and Annie Odair. But when a terrible accident occurs and grief-stricken Peeta is left to raise their newborn daughter alone, he will discover things about himself he never imagined knowing. Along the way, Katniss will win his heart. Disclaimer: All rights go to Suzanne Collins.
1. Prologue

**Hello lovely friends!**

 **So I know I haven't updated my other WIP Ocean of Innocence yet and that it's been way too long since I last updated, but I'm really trying to look for inspiration as to where Finnick and Annie's story goes from here. Plus, this idea sprouted into my head and I just cannot for the life of me get it to go away. I'm not sure how long this story will be but updates should be more frequent now that I have a summer. I'll be crazy busy some weeks and have lots of free time others to hopefully have updates rolling pretty smoothly. Anyway, I hope you guys like this story as much as I have enjoyed having it in my head.**

 **I know Christmas is already very far away, but that's kind of when the story appeared in my head and wouldn't get out. So I hope you guys enjoy this little flashback at the beginning to Christmastime. It might take a few chapters for Katniss and Peeta to really meet, but she's still gonna be thrown in there despite everything else happening.**

 **Sooooo, without further ado, here is Chapter 1. Please tell me your thoughts—favorite or follow if you like, or send a review. They are like little day brighteners in a really crazy summer.**

 **I hope you all have a fabulous week!- Annie**

 **DISCLAIMER: Suzanne Collins wrote _The Hunger Games_ and owns these lovely characters. I just love them enough to play around with them in this story. **

**Prologue: The Most Wonderful Time**

It's been a cold winter.

And it's Christmas again.

Every year around this time, back when my brothers and I were kids, we'd spend hours outside rolling around in the snow that always managed to fall right before Christmas or scouring the aisles for that perfect, brilliant green Christmas tree while our mother, who was always in a slightly better mood during the holidays (which still meant she was moody and stubborn at the least) would remind us not to run. We'd even help her decorate our whole house with these old antique nutcrackers which my brother Rye claimed were made by magical elves.

But my favorite part, the one thing I still looked forward to and woke up early for even after I turned eighteen and came home for Christmas from school, was baking Christmas cookies with my dad: spreading the flour out onto the large, wooden counters and frosting and baking and sprinkling so many different types of sugar cookies with all kinds of reds and greens that I'd have little flecks of sprinkles in my hair by the end of the day. Christmas was always the best time of year as a kid, but baking with him was my favorite. Those late nights shoving flour in my brothers' faces and watching my dad as he worked his magic. His uncanny ability to know when cookies were done without a timer, and the way his face would light up as he frosted a Santa hat to perfection… Our family bakery was busiest at Christmas, and for good reason.

My dad was a loved man. Regulars that frequented our shop knew the little place crammed in between the hair salon and antiques store by heart and always ordered the same things every time they came in. They'd tell my father how much everyone loved his bakery, and he'd smile and pat the old women's hands. But I knew the reputation our business had was in large part because of my dad's friendly face and welcoming personality, although his cheese buns and raspberry danishes probably had something to do with it, too. Even newcomers could strike up a conversation with Frank Mellark and stay for thirty minutes just because he'd made them feel at home, even if they'd only meant to run in.

It had been a Christmas just like this one, snow falling in fat, wet flakes, glistening on the street as people huddled in our bakery to hide from the cold and soak in the warm glow of the fireplace my dad stocked with fresh cedar wood every morning. I remember leaning against the counter satisfied, watching the loud chatter of the small café around me. The place my father had built from its very roots, strung with twinkling Christmas lights and wreaths that were strategically placed by my mother—decorating always especially made her more bearable—made the place feel alive. I was proud as I watched people striding past out the front windows, shopping bags in hand, while the group inside the bakery, some strangers and some people I'd known almost my whole life, made the place feel warm. With only three days left until Christmas, this was the first time I was acknowledging how much I wanted this future for myself—a place like this made people light up, it made everything brighter. Whether we got busier and I went home dead on my feet every night, that didn't matter.

My dad had stayed home that day because he'd complained that his shoulders and arms were acting up again. I told him not to worry, to stay in bed and rest up these last few days before Christmas. I'd been at the bakery full time and although my brothers helped out on weekends, they had other jobs. There was never a question that this was what I wanted to do: carry on this place and own it one day.

My mother would say I had the charm of a slug, but my brothers said I was exactly like my dad. And my friends would joke that I could make anybody like me within a simple, five minute conversation about the weather or what type of bread they should buy—whole grain or French?—for their dinner party. Strangers and old customers like Rooba and Sae, two old women that came in twice a week, sometimes together, called me "a dead ringer for Frankie," meaning my father. I did like to strike up conversations, but I still didn't see myself as likeable and magnetic as my dad. The way his eyes shone when he talked… Anyone would believe anything he tried to sell them. Including me.

But about an hour later, my father was dead.

A massive heart attack. Died in his bed. No way to have prevented it. My oldest brother Wes had found him.

I was with Rue, one of my dad's younger employees, laughing about her family's crazy plans for Christmas. Her huge, wide eyes shone as she told me about how they were going to the woods behind their family farmhouse on Christmas Eve to camp out in the freezing snow when I got the call.

My world shattered.

Fifty three years old. And he was my hero.

The funeral was a large affair. I didn't want it to be that way, and neither did my mother or brothers, but he was loved and admired by so many that it only made sense. My mother didn't shed any tears, but she did clasp my hand with a vice-like grip when she saw a silent tear slip down my cheeks as the casket was lowered into the ground. I think she realized at that moment everything she'd spent her life building was falling apart. And despite everything she'd ever said or done in the past that was more than hurtful, I loved her for that.

Once everyone began to clear away from the grave, cold, bitter rain came pouring down and washed away the last remnants of mushy snow.

…

It's a strange thing when someone dies. The world keeps turning and turning and you just expect all life to seemingly stop because yours has. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I knew I had to be the one to open my father's bakery so people could remember him through cheese buns and hot chocolate and the smell of pine needles at Christmas. And that's what spurred me on. My father's funeral was the day before Christmas Eve, and all night I stayed in the shop, baking loaf after loaf of my dad's favorite raisin nut bread to prepare myself for opening tomorrow as the official owner. I saw myself carrying on my father's legacy to remember his amazing life, and that was the only thing that didn't make me feel useless.

Christmas Eve I simply sat in the back kitchen, ignoring texts and calls from my brothers asking why I'd never shown up to dinner at my aunt's, as I tried to feel anything but numb. In the back of the shop, with the ovens that my dad taught me how to use and the weight of his memory and my grief heavy in the air, I cried for all that I had lost. Sobbed until my head ached. Finally allowed myself to break down and mourn, during a time that my father had used to call "the most wonderful time of the year".

Eventually I realized that I was starving, and I flipped off the lights, too numb to care about my red, swollen eyes, as I headed to an isolated bar down the street. Thankfully everyone was with their families tonight and no one would recognize a teary-eyed Mellark roaming the now-dark streets. I made it to the bar when I realized that it wouldn't be open on Christmas Eve, and that to survive this night I'd need to get completely wasted. I needed noise and a night of no thinking. And there was only one club shitty enough to be open on a night that should be spent with family and friends.

I headed there immediately.

After one drink, I felt nothing. After four, I felt a steady fire and a nice, warm feeling seeping through my veins. Then I lost count and couldn't remember why I was alone on Christmas Eve, with a bottle of tequila as my only company, when my brothers were probably worried, when family was more important than ever. At some point, I drunkenly decided that every Christmas Eve, just once a year, I'd allow myself to numb my father's loss and forget who I was just to deal with the pain in the weakest way possible.

Then, after God knows how many shots of tequila, I decided feeling numb and forgetting included a "fuck buddy". Those two words weren't something someone like me used, ever really, and I felt like my best friend Finnick for a moment. I didn't know if I liked it. I wasn't the type of person to sleep with just anyone.

My first Christmas Eve without my father it was a long, leggy blonde with extremely large, fake breasts. The next year Clove, a rough, brown-haired girl with beady eyes. Then Lavinia (a red-head with pretty green eyes), then Katherine (blond and annoying).

This year is five Christmases without my father. But it's strange, because although when I think about it I miss him just as much as I did five years ago, I'm still Peeta. I still laugh with people in the bakery, still smile, still go out with my friends and live a normal life. But as those few days before Christmas approach, I start feeling a little less like myself as I remember my annual night of forgetting is coming up. I know I could stop going to that shitty bar every Christmas Eve and spare myself the hangover and feeling of worthlessness the next day, but whenever I think about ending my trips I feel like I'd be breaking a tradition and somehow forgetting my dad in the process. I'm not in that dark place I was five years ago, and I would say I've healed as much as I ever will. But I just can't shake that feeling that I can't give up my annual day to feel sorry for myself. It's not healthy, and I know that. But that doesn't mean I can give it up, either.

Rue notices my change in demeanor two days before Christmas this year, and she points it out. She's not a fifteen-year-old newbie anymore: she's twenty and works here over the summer and during her school breaks. Despite the fact that she's the sweetest, tiniest little thing ever, she'll always tell me it like it is in the simplest manner possible that makes everything seem so easy. It makes me think of her as the little sister I never had.

"What are you doing, Peeta?"

I'm trying to jam a receipt into the register but it simply won't fit since we've already sold about half of our stock today. I sigh and run my hands through my hair, remembering that there's no reason for me to be so on edge.

"Nothing—I just, I was trying to fix the register. Sorry, Rue."

She smiles a soft little smile and reaches over to put her hand on my arm. "You okay?"

I look over at her and smile. There's that knowing look in those big, brown eyes again. "Yeah, I'll be okay."

Rue frowns. "Okay. Well, why don't you let me empty that and you can go frost some ginger bread cookies in the back?"

I nod my head. "I'll do that." She's just about to turn away to go grab a pouch for all of the crumpled up receipts when I stop her with my voice.

"And Rue Berry, thanks. You always know what to say." I stick my tongue out at her because I know she hates the nickname my dad coined for her ages ago. She groans and skips away from me. I laugh softly and then get on with my day. No use in fighting the inevitable. For now, I'll try to avoid the looming threat of Christmas Eve as much as possible.

…

I'm not even sure I have the energy to feel numb tonight after the long days I've been working at the bakery. All I want to do is sleep.

Of course, my phone is already vibrating with messages from my brothers, who are begging me to come this year. They're not idiots, and when I show up hung over every Christmas day, they can guess where I've been.

It's three o'clock, and my family's dinner starts at five. I have two hours to decide.

 _Rye: Peet, please come this year. We'll miss you, man._

 _Wes: Hey, are you coming tonight?_

 _Wes: Peeta. Wake the hell up. Come on. This isn't you._

 _Finnick: Going with your family tonight?_

Well, shit. Finnick's even harassing me now, and he used to be the man whore in our circle of friends.

I will admit they're making me think twice. I mean, this year, it feels wrong to betray my family and miss Christmas, even though I've done it the past five years in a row. But this year, it also just feels wrong to use some other girl for a night. That's not who I am. It feels wrong to sleep with some random person only to never actually call her, but it feels wrong to break this twisted tradition I've established. It all feels wrong.

I finally decide that I won't beat myself up again and think of my father by forgetting myself. He wouldn't want that. There are other ways to make his memory live on. But I also decide that this year I'm not ready to go to my family's dinner yet and face the questions like, _where have you been for the past five years?_ I decide to instead stay in the back of my father's bakery and make some of that raisin nut bread. But when the clock ticks nearer and nearer towards five, I begin to feel restless. I can't do this. I can't spend another year alone. I have to face the questions and accept the truth. I have to let go.

I hurry upstairs above to my loft to change and then pile some leftover sugar cookies onto a plate as an offering of apology for all the years I've missed. When I show up at the door however, no one questions it. Rye smiles, Wes claps me on the shoulder, and even my mother hugs me. Nothing makes me feel out of place.

It's my family, and I like it. I finally feel like myself again. And that maybe this Christmas can begin years of Christmases that aren't so bad.

 _On New Year's Eve_

I meet my friends at Abernathy's like usual on a busy and hectic New Year's Eve. The place is all decked out with Happy-New-Year-hats and signs and already drunk people singing along to the music that the band is playing. It's funny how just three years ago, before Effie Trinket was hired by an anonymous person that Haymitch swears wasn't himself to spruce the place up, this bar was dimly lit and reeked of stale liquor. Now, with a little help of an interior decorator/ entrepreneur, like Effie reminds me she is every time she sees me, the place looks like something nice that somehow Haymitch would own. Flairs of his are still there in the leather seating and the menu board that ranges from all of his favorite selections to that "damn cobb salad", but the whole place is tainted with a touch of coziness that makes the spot a hit for a lot of people. Although whenever I need to think, I still take Finnick or Delly or Johanna, whichever will have the best advice at whatever shitty moment, or sometimes all three, to that isolated bar where my first lonely Christmas Eve was spent. This place is more of a regular stop though for people coming into the city for a night.

"Peeta!" Delly squeals when she notices me striding to the table. "Hey!" She hugs me tight, that almost suffocating yet oddly comforting smell of roses hitting my nostrils the same way it always has. We've been best friends since we were five, and she's like a sister. And I think she's been wearing the same perfume since our freshman year of high school.

Finnick claps me on the shoulder and Annie, his wife, hugs me softly, while Jo just rolls her eyes and shoves me good naturedly.

"So Blondie, got a hot date showing up this year?"

I chuckle. "No, Jo, sorry to disappoint. But I did hear you have a friend showing up."

Johanna's smirk quickly turns into a signature scowl. "What the hell? Who told him?!"

I laugh. "You'll never be able to live it down now, Jo. And I found out last week from Annie when I dropped by their house to drop off some Christmas cookies. How did you meet this mysterious, dark-haired Gale?"

She snorts. "Ugh, God I should've known. And I met him from a friend at work, so it's nothing. Shut up."

Despite her apathetic, pissed-off demeanor, her cheeks are red, and I can tell that she's embarrassed, which only makes me think this guy and her are as serious as Annie said. I've never seen her blush over any guy, ever. Call him crude names and ask him for sex the moment they meet? That's what I tend to see more of.

I shrug. "Just be happy I don't ask the vulgar types of questions that you've asked whenever I've brought a girl for you to meet."

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Mellark! And if you say one word tonight, I will kick your sorry ass. Now, you interrupted what I was going to say earlier. Which was that you, my sexy friend, need to get laid."

Finnick chimes in. "Jo, if I didn't know you as well as I do I'd figure you want to lay him yourself." And then she's cackling, doubled over on the floor with laughter while Annie just smiles at me sympathetically and Madge pulls me in for a tight hug. I know almost all of them from high school, besides Johanna and Annie and Thom, Delly's boyfriend, and a tingling warmth spreads throughout my chest when I think about all of my friends that I'm lucky to have, even after my trip to hell and back.

We are all talking later on and I'm in the midst of listening to Madge and Annie tell a story about one of their coworkers at the elementary school down the street when I subtly notice Annie's water that hasn't been replaced with her usual glass of wine at all tonight. And sure enough, when Annie mentions loving the kids at school despite the crazy things they do, Finnick wears a shit-eating grin and Annie glances over at him as her eyes light up.

I smile wistfully. "Something going on here, Fin?"

Annie's eyes widen and Finnick just laughs. "You know me too well, Peet." He takes a deep breath and then addresses the group by glancing around at all of us. Johanna's eyebrows are raised comically high.

"Annie… she's pregnant."

There's a chorus of small shrieks and congratulations and toasts and questions about how far along she is and Delly's already asking about names… And there's so much hope in just one little baby that it makes me smile.

I squeeze Annie's knee. "You're gonna be a great mother."

Her eyes are glistening with tears and she throws her arms around my neck. Her lips whisper into my ear, "Finn's said so much about how great you've been over these past years, Peeta, and I didn't believe all his stories until I met you. We already have plenty of plans for Uncle Peeta."

I chuckle and shoot Finnick a glance. He's hugging Madge tightly. "I'd be honored, Ann."

She leans up and wipes her tears. "Oh, I'm even more emotional now than usual!" And then a whisper again as she smiles and pats my hand. "I'm glad. You've meant so much to Finnick, and to me, too. We just want you to be happy."

If it was the I-want-you-to-be-happy spiel from anybody other than Annie, I would roll my eyes. But because it's her, I know she truly means it and isn't necessarily pushing me to go find a wife and settle down myself, unlike everybody else and their mother.

So I say, "How could I not be happy? Some of my best friends in the world are gonna be parents!"

She grins again, and at midnight, when the horns are sounding and fireworks are booming, I find myself wondering what little baby Odair will be like.

 _6 months later_

It's a hot summer day and the AC is blasting the back of my neck as I stand in the front of the bakery, trying to cool off after working right alongside the ovens for forty five minutes, when Finnick barges in, a crazed look on his face.

The next words out of his mouth make me double over in laughter.

"I need your buns. Like now."

I'm guffawing as I walk over to him and look at the large bag he's brought along, that's filled with two empty Tupperware containers sitting on top of what looks like three gallons of strawberry ice cream and pickles. Annie must be craving more foods now. Last month, it was pretzels. All the time. Every time I saw her at their apartment and even when she'd come to get drinks with all of us on Friday nights, she'd have a to-go bag of pretzels. This month must be crazier.

I pull myself together and say, "Thanks, Finn. I'm flattered. You want them hot?"

Finnick, despite the stressed-out look and the way he's running his fingers through his hair, cracks a smile. "Shut up and get me the Goddamn cheese buns, Mellark."

"Wow," I say, "Johanna's twin right here." Nonetheless, I swiftly bag them up because I know Annie must be tired and moody, and it's probably getting to him. She's not a naturally irritable person, so every once in a while when she has an extremely hormonal day with lots of angry and misunderstood tears, poor Finn doesn't really know how to handle it. But if she wants cheese buns, I can at least help with that.

As soon as I pile them into the containers for him, he rushes out and thanks me. I tell him I'll stop by later with more just in case to cheer Annie up a bit, and, and he yells out an "okay" as he's making his way out the door. I shake my head and then start cleaning up just before I leave to meet our group for drinks again. This time, Johanna's now steady boyfriend Gale, who was at first a little dark and mysterious just like Annie described, has now warmed up to me and asks about the bakery and how things are going every time I see him. I tell him all of the usual stuff about it, and he asks about business, which makes sense considering he's a businessman himself. But Jo's good for him: she loosens him up, and he looks at her like she's hung the moon every time I see them together.

I wait for Annie and Finnick to show up so I can decide if I need to run over to their house like I said I would or stay here and wait for them. They live about fifteen minutes away, in a nice house right on the beach. I decide to give them a few more minutes.

They don't show up. I start to worry because they always come when they say they will, and even if Annie started to feel sick, she would've told Finnick to go without her. Maybe he still stayed home. Hell, maybe she went into labor a week early. I don't know. Either way, I want to go check.

I'm on my way out to my car when I get the call. An eerily familiar call, a call that stops time, that deadens you, that makes you feel like life itself is ending.

"Am I speaking with Mr. Mellark?"

I exhale in surprise. "Yes, may I ask who is calling?"

"Hello, yes, I'm with the Intensive Care Unit here at Ford Sea Hospital. You are both Mr. and Mrs. Odair's emergency contact?"

I freeze. I froze after the words "Intensive Care Unit"... _Of course they'd call me before anyone else. Finnick and Annie's families both live out of town. Are they okay? What happened? Oh shit! Is the baby okay?_

My thoughts are running in a million different directions and it's so different from when my father died because I know they're still alive. There is time to save my best friends and their baby.

"Yes," I say, rushed. "Oh my God. I'm on way. What happened? Shit, what happened? Is the baby okay? Are they okay? I mean, how bad is it? I-"

"You're going to need to calm down, Mr. Mellark. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths. I'm sorry, but it was an automobile accident that happened on Highway 20. I don't have all the details, but it would be much appreciated if you would come in."

"Of course," I say, my throat suddenly thick with the thought of Finnick's face earlier today, so flustered and willing to do whatever Annie wanted. He'd die for her, there was no denying that. And the way they talked about their soon-to-be-born baby and how magical it would be to raise their child to love the ocean and to teach him or her all about how _not_ to act, which would basically be a summary of Finnick himself from age 21 to 23. And this… this was so unexpected that I couldn't even remember the last time I'd truly looked him in the eye and told him how much he meant to me. "I'm heading that way now. I'll be there in five minutes."

"Okay, Mr. Mellark. Thank you. Drive safely, please. There's no need to rush and put yourself in danger. We're doing everything we can, and they are in the best possible hands here."

I nod, even though she can't see, and then hang up.

During the drive my hands are clenched tight, and my mind is racing. Thinking of different possibilities, outcomes… Hopefully I can see them as soon as I get to the hospital but if they're in the ICU, doesn't that mean it's serious? I can't lose them. They can't lose each other. They can't lose the baby.

I park my car at a screeching stop and rush past the double doors as I see a tired-looking, old woman frown somberly in my direction. There are only so many things that a man running into a hospital can mean, and usually they're not good.

When I check in and tell the grave-looking woman that I'm the Odairs' emergency contact, her brown eyes dull too quickly. It scares the hell out of me. My heart is beating so fast I think it might erupt inside of my chest. She leads me past the whitish, glaring doors into a pale, blank, eerily silent waiting room. I can't sit, so I pace until an older man, in his fifties with graying hair and a dead look inside his tired eyes, greets me as Doctor Edison. He shakes my hand and leads me through another set of doors, past another row of desks into a tiny alcove, right in the heart of the ICU.

"Hi, Mr. Mellark. Why don't you take a seat-?"

"I'm sorry, but I need to know what's happening right now," I interrupt. I can't even think about sitting down right now. "I mean, Fin and Annie are my best friends. What happened? How bad was the accident? I-"

"Mr. Mellark," Dr. Edison rushes, holding his hands out in front of his tired eyes, "I know it's hard, but you need to calm down. I'm going to make a rare exception and allow you to see your friend Annie, because she's going to need some support, I think. Can you do that for me?"

I can feel my wild, bulging eyes boring into his, but I can't process any of my thoughts. All I know is that I need to save my friends and their baby.

"I mean, of course," I sputter, "But what about Finnick? I mean, I'd like to see him too. Are there rooms close to each other?"

Dr. Edison's eyes fall down, and my heart stops. I've seen that look before. The pity, the detached sorrow, the face that lets me know they've failed and that I've failed and that something is really wrong.

"I'm sorry, son, but your friend Finnick did not make it. And Annie, her head wound is severe. It's caused internal bleeding in her brain that might make her chance of survival slim. We're doing everything we can, but we believe her brain stem has been damaged beyond repair. She is alive—shallowly breathing but fighting. If we are to perform any sort of surgery, we need to perform a c-section immediately to remove the baby so that we can use the proper kinds of drugs that would normally harm a fetus. You have a choice, Mr. Mellark. And I know this is extremely hard, but I'm afraid you have to make it quickly. Annie is progressively slowing in both mental and physical function. We can immediately perform surgery, which may not even give us another chance at the rate she has progressed. However with that surgery would mean an almost assured miscarriage, considering the drugs and the strain of surgery and recovery that would not allow the fetus to survive. Although even if you choose to allow Annie to deliver the baby and instead opt out of surgery, the stress that has been inflicted upon the baby could lead to possible complications. Do you need a minute to process all of this?"

His voice faded out somewhere after "did not make it". All I can think about is my best friend, and all of the memories… The things he knew about me, the places we went to, and the stupid shit we did… I always did it with him. Everything, since the time I'd met him, had made sense because I had found my best friend in him. Just this morning his sleepless face had even managed to crack a smile for me, and no matter what the situation, he could lighten it. The light being gone, fading away in some cold, hospital bed as he laid there alone… His end, the accident: it all flashes through my head. I imagine spinning darkness, and the Finnick I knew only being concerned about his wife and unborn child. The chaos and fear of the last hour, even after the amazing, happy life he lived. All wasted for nothing.

I think I might be falling to my knees until Dr. Edison pats a hand on my shoulder. It's only then that I feel the wet tears sliding down my face and ask myself why me, why him, why anyone?

I thought I had experience with this whole death thing.

It only takes a glance at the doctor's well-hidden sense of urgency that makes me realize I still have something to live for. Finnick still has something that means something to him in this world. And it's about to be taken away. I see the choice clearly.

It's Annie or the baby.

For a brief second, I want to give up. I want to scream that it's unfair, that he can't expect me to choose for two people that should be making this decision together.

But there's no time for that. And I know what both Finnick and Annie would choose, if they were here to choose together.

The baby. They would save their baby.

I don't realize I've said the words aloud until Dr. Edison is taking my arm and rushing to go deliver the baby. He asks if I want to see.

For some reason, maybe just to see Annie and see the face of the little bit of Finnick left in the world as soon as it arrives, I say yes.

I'm in a daze as I'm suited up and shoved in blue fabric from head to toe. I haven't even secured my mask before the operation begins. I can hear the frantic mumbles of doctors as I step into the glaring, bright light of the operating facility. I can smell the strong antiseptic flooding the cold room.

But my eyes immediately focus on Annie. I notice the gauze, the whiteness of the sheets now being stripped from her body… it kills me. I don't ever want to remember her this way, and now it's ingrained in my brain. The once beautiful, shining Annie with her emerald eyes and kind, heart-shaped face has transformed into someone I can't even identify as her.

I'm about to be sick when Dr. Edison tells me in a loud voice, one that echoes over the quiet din of surrounding doctors, that the incision is being made.

I step tentatively toward the side of the bed to hold Annie's hand because all of this feels wrong. It feels invasive and distorted because Finnick should be in my place and Annie should be smiling up at him, reassuring him that everything is going to be okay. Instead, Finnick is gone, and Annie's lifelessness that seems to be hidden under the layers of white gauze scares me. I loved them both. And I still do. She can't leave me, too.

Her eyelids are barely fluttering, and her pale, limp body haunts me. I can hear metal tools clanking and a soft but urgent doctor giving directions to the three other medical professionals in the room. I stand alone at the head of the sterile table, grasping Annie's hand for dear life and rubbing circles on it, trying to bring some warmth back into her cold, grayish hand.

I'm in a trance, thinking of nothing but what is happening right in front of me because it's what they would want. I've heard that things like this aren't supposed to last too long, but it feels like hours as the doctor's work and prod as Annie's beautiful, happy life slips farther and farther away. I can't see the procedure or her open stomach because of the wall of sheets and blankets the doctors have purposely put into place, and I'm glad. All I want to focus on is Annie, staying strong for her, desperately hoping and praying for her to make it.

And that's what I do. I don't take my eyes off of Annie's cold face, illuminated by the blinding lights of the operating room.

Until I hear a single, loud cry.

Hands are pushing the blankets down, and Doctor Edison's face appears, a soft smile on his face as he towels off the warm, squirming tiny little human being in his hands. A doctor is recording information at a computer about the time of birth and the health of the baby and the sex…

It's a girl. And she's perfect, absolutely healthy with a completely phenomenal, strong heartbeat.

"Incredible," I whisper. Before I'm even thinking about it I'm reaching for her, reaching for the tiny hands and tiny feet and perfect little angelic face with such soft features like her mother. It isn't until I see those piercing, beautiful, bright green eyes that are uniquely Finnick's that I feel another tear slip down my cheek. The umbilical cord is cut and their little girl, my niece, is placed into my arms.

She's warm, soft, fragile, and glowing. She's everything.

Her cries have turned to little panted gasps as a few doctor's work to put Annie back together while Doctor Edison tells me that whenever I'm ready, little baby is ready to be cleaned off. I don't even think about handing her over yet. Not before she has the chance to see her own mother.

I try to beat away feelings that this is wrong, that I have to be the one to hold their child first and not them, as I gently rest the baby against her mother's chest. She squirms a little closer, right towards Annie's heart, and I can just imagine this tiny little miracle baby warming her mother from the inside out and bringing her back to health.

But that's not the case. Just a few moments later, Annie's eyes are fluttering open and I can see her shallow breaths as she breathes, "A girl. So beautiful… Peeta. I—love her."

Now tears are streaming down my face in earnest. "I know you do, Ann. She's still yours. You have to fight. You have to hang on."

Annie's eyes crinkle and her face contorts into a tiny smile of acceptance and grief and love all so intense it forms a fissure in my heart.

"Don't—be sad. Peeta. Finnick… she is me—and—and Fin. And we—he… would want her…" her voice trails off in a hoarse crack, but I can see in her eyes the determination to finish her sentence before her eyes give up and flutter closed. "He would want her… to be yours. If she couldn't—be ours."

And with that, her eyes flutter closed, and it's the last time I ever see the eyes of Annie Cresta. Eyes that used to show shining concern and unparalleled empathy.

I still have the baby, and I feel shaky. Doctor Edison seems to understand as he gently removes their daughter from my weakening arms.

I sob.

I grip Annie's hand and lay my head on her unmoving chest as I weep for all that I have lost, like a child that needs its mother's heartbeat to reassure itself. But this time, there's no sound.

I don't know how long I am there before the Doctor comes back in, their little girl nowhere in sight, as he tells me my friends are here. Delly, Johanna, and Madge tentatively step into the operating room, still too bright for my eyes.

Doctor Edison turns off the overhead light on his way out to wait in the hall.

Madge's face contorts when she sees me, lying there next to Annie's prostrate body, and then all four of us are crying, even Johanna's head buried in my shoulder as we become a mass of arms tangled around each other. We've all lost two of our best friends.

Delly's heaving sobs barely allow her to speak, but somehow she does. "Oh my God. Where is—where is the baby? And Fin… Oh, Peeta. You are—so brave. The bravest… person I know."

Madge is sobbing uncontrollably and has her face buried against the slightly bloody gown of Annie's sewn-up stomach.

And Johanna won't come out from the side of my shirt as her shoulders shake hard and silently.

After what feels like hours, Jo emerges, a dead, determined look on her face. She's decided to be the strong one.

"Look, we need to let her body go. We need to come to terms with letting this part of her—go." Her voice slightly falters. "And then we can see Fin."

My throat closes up just thinking about seeing my very best friend lying on a table, cold and lifeless.

"No," I say, too firmly. "It's not how he or Annie would want us to remember him. We need to let their bodies be."

Delly lets out another sob, and Jo nods one time, fast as her eyes start to blink unnaturally again.

I tentatively stand up, and it's like all the blood rushes to my head. The dizziness almost consumes me but Delly grabs my hand and squeezes.

"I'm going to let the doctors know we've said our goodbyes to her. That way, we can- uh- move somewhere more comfortable and wait to see the baby."

Jo stands, and the other girls follow. We walk out of the room, and don't look back.

One thought gets me to the end of the hall and through the short, stabbing conversation with Doctor Edison. This thought takes me past the grieving couple that is slumped against the wall, and past a crying, grey-eyed, raven-haired girl that self-consciously looks up as we trudge by. She's alone, and I would probably find her beautiful if I wasn't so numb. But it's my one thought, the little baby girl, who a few minutes later we see through a glass window in the infant's ward, that keeps my shaky control maintained.

I want to give this little girl everything. And because they can't, I will try to.

Now, she is not only theirs but mine, too. Just like Annie said.

A part of me that is foreign and strange and so utterly protective arises and fills that fissure in my heart, the one that cracked back in that operating room.

She is what will hold me together, from now on, no matter what.

And tonight is just the beginning.

 **Hope you liked! I know the beginning is long and drones about Peeta, but I really wanted everyone to understand his story and where he's coming from. Also, I know this is the longest prologue ever, but I wanted to preface this birth and the situation because after a few chapters of Peeta getting used to being a father and having some subtle run-ins with Katniss, we might jump like two years to about a two-year-old little girl with Peeta so we can officially bring Katniss in. Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Here's Chapter 1, guys! I really want to hear your opinions/ thoughts/ anything you have to say at all really, so please review! I don't like putting certain numbers or anything like that to stop my story from getting updated until I get a specific amount of reviews so I won't do that, but I really appreciate the feedback. It keeps me going and inspires me to get some updates for you guys faster. I might wait a little bit so I can get some more feedback and reviews on the writing, the plotline, or anything else your beautiful, creative minds want to say. I didn't mean to take this long to update, but I went away for a long weekend and I've been trying to get things in order for a mission trip I have coming up. As always, thanks for coming to check out this story! I appreciate every single one of you.**

 **Disclaimer: No surprise here, but I don't own these characters. The lovely Suzanne Collins does.**

 **Chapter 1: When You Say Father**

"I don't know, Jo."

"What else are we supposed to do?"

"Their parents…"

"If they wanted their child to be raised by Finnick's poor grandmother who runs away from her retirement home every night, they would have said so in all of the paperwork you sign for things like this. And besides, even without all that official writing, Annie asked you."

At this moment, Delly chimes in and reiterates Johanna's statement. "She asked you…" her voice falters, and she sniffles a little. "She wanted you to be the one. To have their daughter. That means something to all of us. And you know Finn would have wanted the same thing."

We're sitting in a hospital room: a newly cleaned, sterile one that feels at least slightly more comfortable. It's just about dawn if I'm seeing the sunrise through the cracks in the blinds correctly, but even the oranges and the pinks, hands down my favorite view from my loft at five in the morning, can't keep my attention. I should be exhausted too after staying up all night, but my mind is brimming with so many things I might as well give up trying to figure them all out. Last night doesn't hurt too much yet, but that's probably because it felt so much like a dream—no, a nightmare—that I'm still denying it. Delly's told me to sleep about five times in the past two hours since she already slept through the night here in the hospital with me, but I tell her not to worry.

When I first saw her, I felt it. That instinct, that… shit, I don't know if I can even say it… fatherly, protective impulse that felt just as natural as falling in love. I had fallen in love with this tiny baby, even when she was still in Annie's belly and was completely and forever theirs. When she had two parents. And now… she was mine.

Johanna firmly told us all last night as she paced back and forth in our room that this little baby girl firstly: needed a name and secondly: deserved a whole family, which meant we would never consider her an orphan because she already had all of us who were going to be there for her no matter what. We all knew someone had to take this child legally as their own, and we all knew it would somehow end up being me, because all four of us were not okay denying Annie's dying wish and because I was Finnick's best friend. They also said that somehow I was the most mature, the most prepared, even though if I had felt like if it had been a funny situation I would have laughed. Me, a father? A dad? I couldn't picture it. Especially because it was just beginning to sink in that her parents, some of my very best friends, were gone. Finnick wasn't going to run in with a huge grin on his face and tell us all to come meet his new little bundle of joy. We wouldn't be able to see Annie's beautiful, calm face brim with tears as she held her daughter for the first time.

Could I do this?

That's what I'd been asking myself since I signed my name on the line that officially declared me legal guardian of baby Analiese Odair, who was lucky to share her name with her mother. She needed a piece of her parents with her, so we had all agreed to keep her last name so that Annie and Finn's legacy could live on in some small way. Analiese because it had been Annie's full name before she shortened it in high school and because it just feels right. It's nice to know that a piece of Annie's name is going to still live on through her baby. And Odair, a piece of both of them, but especially a piece of Finnick and his loving, outgoing personality. I already know that Analiese is going to be a perfect little human, sprinkles of Annie and Finnick mingling in her soft, warm, tiny body and creating someone so empathetic and loving and entertaining that that the whole world could fall for her.

I accidentally said something like this out loud last night, and Johanna said that "my belief in the kid" already showed that I was ready, that I loved her, that I was willing to do anything for her.

I know I love her and that I want the world for her. We all want that for this baby. Hell, it's practically _our_ baby. But I'm just so scared of screwing that up by being the one to parent her.

It also makes me think, though. What if I could be like my dad, and give her memories that would make her remember and love me forever? What if we baked cookies together every Christmas and shopped for that perfect Christmas tree? Suddenly and strangely, I ache for something like that with a little girl I can call my own.

Madge comes back with coffee for all of us just as an unfamiliar doctor steps in. He looks on us in quiet sympathy and also maybe a little bit of pity, but he informs us that Analiese's vitals are excellent and that she's ready to come see us and go home sometime tomorrow. They want to keep her just to run a few more blood tests and stress tests because of the emergency c-section, and then some nurses also want to spend the day with us to talk about some different things. The baby is staying with us, in this room, all today so that the nurses can help us, mainly me probably, prepare for what caring for a child, at least physically, is like.

I blanch at the thought of me and her, alone in my loft, tomorrow. It seems so soon.

As soon as the doctor, whose name I've already forgotten, leaves, the fear slips into place on my face.

Delly reads my panic and murmurs, "Don't worry. We'll all take turns staying with you so you aren't alone. Peet, you're going to be good at this. And you have us to help."

Madge nods her head fervently. "We're all here. This is something big for all of us. And if you need a break or anything like that don't hesitate to call or ask. We'll always be available when you need us."

I nod my head and swallow. "Thanks, guys."

At that, the door opens with a line of three nurses, the last one cradling a little bald head in that light pink blanket. My heart starts to race a little faster than normal, and my hands are clammy. I have to embrace the reality that this little girl is my daughter now, even though it somehow feels so wrong because she is supposed to be Finnick and Annie's. And they can't be gone.

She's right at the edge of the bed that all four of us are sitting on when the nurse, whose name tag reads Sadie, asks, "Do you want to hold her?"

I'm peering at those tiny, puffy, red eyelids, and they're fluttering in her sleep. I wonder if she's dreaming, and what she's dreaming about. Her parents' voices? This new place? I'd give anything to know.

"Of course," I whisper.

When she's gently set into my arms, a little sigh escapes her, and her head cuddles into my chest, right above my heart. I melt a little into her soft, small body, and I can already feel this little baby tugging at my heart strings. I'm hers now, too.

It's the strangest thing that things like this happen in life. Something so bad happened to two such good people that created this perfect miracle of a child. It doesn't make any sense how this little person can already have me cooing at her when she's only a day old. Her eyes flutter open for just a second to graze past mine as if to say, _I know you're already wrapped around my finger_. Words just like Finnick's.

And even though I'm scared shitless, this moment is not a moment that should be interrupted by anything like fear. It's a moment that I know will be branded into my memory. The sight of her warm and healthy, the feel of the soft, cotton blanket, the smell of baby powder and clean skin. I'm trying to take it all in, and I don't even realize that I'm leaning the index finger of my right hand to gently stroke her smooth, full cheek. It's so soft, and I have the sudden urge to kiss it. So I do.

I press a kiss to her cheek, and then her other cheek, and then her forehead. Then I'm kissing the top of her head and cradling my hand behind her neck as I scoop her up against my chest. I'm feeling a little overwhelmed and so thankful that she made it into this world safely that it starts to feel like she was meant to be here, even if Annie and Finnick can't be. Before I can register my eyes watering, I feel a tear run down my cheek and watch it land on the skin of her head.

I hear sniffling and look to see that Delly and Madge are crying gently.

I ask in a quiet murmur, "Do any of you want to hold her?"

"I think we'll take a walk up on the rooftop garden and let you spend some time alone with her. Right, Del, Jo?" Madge sniffs.

"Yes," Delly says, too quickly. "The air will be good for us."

I nod my head without turning my eyes away from this little miracle.

My cheek rests against her head as I whisper, "I love you, Lissy. So much. You have no idea. Finnick and Annie loved you so much, too. They did. I'm sad they aren't here. But I love you, and you're not going to be alone. You're never going to be alone."

And that's the first time I feel like I've said something that links me and her, like I've said something my father would say.

Holy shit.

It's freezing outside, but that's not really the reason for my panic.

It's January 10th, and I'm about to leave the comfort of the nurses and doctors with a two-day-old baby, in a car seat that Johanna and Gale went to get from Finn's, because I didn't want to leave Analiese and because I knew I would break down if I saw their house, untouched and full of preparations for the baby. This whole experience really is the only thing holding me together. My throat is beginning to tighten and burn with thoughts of Finn and Annie, but I reign in any emotion bubbling to the surface. It's not about me right now, and with a new baby I don't think it ever will be again.

Johanna and Madge are waiting at my loft, thank God. They've been bringing boxes of baby stuff over from Finn's house since she was born. Toys, a crib and bassinet, blankets, diapers, wipes, bath tubs, and formula. The list of things goes on and on, and my head hurts a little bit. Downstairs in the bakery, life is going on because Haymitch- my dad's drunk of a brother that secretly adores children and has his shit together, at least when it comes to helping other people with their own shit—is downstairs running the show. Rue's probably still here too, or maybe Prim, who Haymitch apparently hired as of yesterday without telling me. Either way, the only thing missing from the set-in-stone routine of my life is me, and now someone else that's about to change things drastically.

For now though, one ordeal at a time. And the first big scare I have is my fear of being behind the wheel and responsible for a tiny little human. Delly came with me in the car for moral support, and she's smiling as I make my turns extra carefully, slowing down at all the right places. When I pull in back behind the bakery, I breathe a sigh of relief. I actually made it home without hurting anything.

After I run out and make sure the baby's okay (she's been quiet the whole ride home and is that normal? I have no idea), I see her sleeping eyes and grin. Finn could fall asleep anywhere, and Annie used to tease him about it all the time. I mean, newborns sleep all the time, but still, it makes me think of something happy about Finnick.

I gently lift her up and Delly follows behind as we rush inside, away from the freezing air and into the warm back kitchen.

Haymitch sits on a stool next to the large butcher block island and only cocks his head up when Delly closes the door softly so Analiese doesn't wake up.

He stands up and then peers down at her through her bundled-up, tiny, fur body suit.

"She looks like a mini yetti," he remarks gruffly, but I can see the adoration in his eyes, and a strange sense of pride fills me. He's –in his own way- asking permission to hold her. As soon as she's lifted into his arms, his face turns just a little bit softer and he makes quick work of her coat. She stirs a little but never opens her eyes.

"What color are they?" Haymitch asks. I'm slightly surprised by the question.

"Green, just like Annie and Finn's."

Haymitch nods, and then hands her back to me carefully, almost reluctantly.

We all three stand there for a second, and I'm thinking, _What the hell happens now?_

"So there's a baby here now," I state stupidly.

"No shit," Haymitch says, and then he guffaws. "So some things are gonna change. Oh well. We can make do." Now, I can tell he's trying to reassure me as best he can. "Prim's manning the front today with Rue, and they're already like best friends or whatever the hell two girls call themselves nowadays. They've been good about working out there almost every day together since you haven't been here."

I nod. "Thank you, Haymitch, really."

"Just call me Grandpa."

Delly blinks in surprise, and then I burst out laughing, or as much as I can laugh with a sleeping baby pressed to my chest. I'm following my uncle's harsh and biting, hilarious remarks, but the whole time I'm glancing down, gauging any movements or sounds from Analiese. It's like my every thought is hyper-attuned already to include her.

"Well, I'm going to put her down in her bassinet, okay? Then I'll be back down, to meet Prim and everything."

Delly's just about to open her mouth to protest when Haymitch answers for her. "No way in hell, son. Get some sleep. You look like shit. If the baby wakes up, we'll make sure she gets what she needs."

"No, wake me up when Lissy wakes up," I protest. "You guys have done enough."

Delly smiles. "What did you just call her? Oh my God, I was thinking of nicknames too! Is it too soon to call her Ann or Annie? Or maybe Lissy like you said? I like that. That's cute for a baby."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Haymitch says. "Now go on up."

Delly brings up a valid point though. I hadn't thought about having a designated, shorter name. I just sort of spewed out what felt natural.

I'm tiptoeing up the stairs to the apartment and absently wondering about good, wholesome nicknames when I realize how exhausted I really am. I still smile though when I see the door to the apartment covered in WELCOME HOME, ANALIESE AND PEETA signs, colored and printed with little pink balloons. Inside the door, real pink balloons are right next to the entry table, along with flowers that nobody brought to the hospital because of all the sadness and bouquets we had received for a completely different reason that night, too.

Johanna, Madge, my brothers Rye and Wes, and Cinna, my neighbor who owns a high-fashion salon right next door, are waiting for me. They see my exhausted eyes and smile sympathetically while Rye and Wes clap me on the back and pull me into hugs.

"Man, who thought you'd be the first to be calling us uncles?" Rye laughs. "But seriously, congrats, Peet. She's beautiful." He's staring into the blanket now with a smile.

Wes wants to hold her too, and suddenly my arms feel empty. Madge tells me that she's cooked dinner and that I have to eat her steaming hot beef stew before I go to bed. She makes me eat two bowls and then a slice of a baguette from downstairs before she orders me to shower and get under my apparently newly-cleaned sheets.

"Seriously, thank you, Madge. And say thanks to everybody else, too. This is more than I expected."

"Of course, Peeta. We are in this just as much as you are. Delly cleaned your sheets and started like micro-cleaning the whole house two days ago whenever she wasn't at the hospital. She's going to be exhausted to go back to teach those kids tomorrow. Johanna's calling in sick tomorrow to stay with you, and me and Delly are going to be coming over after school every day to make dinner, check up on you, give you a break if you need one. And Haymitch is already in control downstairs. Cinna even brought over some adorable baby clothes, not that we don't have enough with everything you know… they bought. Um—yeah, now I'm rambling. But get in the shower and go to sleep. We have the bassinet in here for now so I'll bring her in a second, but you know Delly, she's already drawing up plans to turn the guest bedroom into a nursery. It'll probably be done when you wake up, knowing her. But seriously, Peeta, don't stress. Everything is taken care of. And I think Wes said he wanted to bring Ruby over one night so they can make you dinner and take the baby off your hands for a couple of hours, even if you do just want to stay in and sleep. We're all going to need that and-"

"Thanks, Madge," I cut in gently. "Really. It's nice to know that my friends are here." And it is. The doting and loving attention of my friends and family is all that is really supporting me right now and keeping me going. After my shower, I come into see Analiese fast asleep in her bassinet and I gently roll it right next to my bedside, so that nothing can happen to her, before I kiss her forehead and flick off the lights.

When I wake up, it's light out.

It's sort of surreal because for one moment it feels like everything is the same and that I'm about to get up at the baker's hour to start up the shop for the day. Then, last night comes flitting back in, and I'm overwhelmed. It doesn't feel real. Coming home to this place with a baby… it's something I never dreamed of doing, especially on my own.

That's when my eyes dart to the crib, and I realize she isn't there.

I'm just about out the door and ready to frantically scream my way down the stairs and out into the cold when I notice Jo holding her and cooing in her ear, an empty bottle on the kitchen table.

"Jo?" I ask. "Who stayed over here all night?"

"Rye did. He kept getting up about every two-ish hours to feed her, or at least that's what he said this morning. He said she slept pretty well though in between feedings. You must have needed the sleep if you didn't hear her weird little alien sobs. But it probably took him like an hour to give her every bottle, the doofus." Her tone is teasing.

I frown and quickly walk over to hug her shoulder. "Jo, I told Madge to wake me up when she needed to be fed or changed or anything. I wanted to be there." I'm hurt that I missed her first night at home.

"Well, you should know by now she wasn't going to listen. She's like the mother of all caretakers. Besides, you wouldn't have been able to function for the baby today without that sleep last night. And by the way, she's coming tonight for dinner with Delly. And Wes is down helping in the bakery before he leaves for work."

"This is crazy," I state.

"Agreed," she dead pans. "I didn't think things like this happened in real life."

"Me either," I say.

We sit in comfortable silence until Johanna offers up Delly's suggestion of a baby party to welcome Analiese home. Which I say I'll think about, but why not? I don't really know what I'm doing, anyways.

The day passes strangely and quickly as I sit to try to satisfy Analiese's every need: when she's hungry, tired, or needs a diaper change. It's so surreal to think this is my life now, permanently. And oddly, I don't feel nostalgic about losing my mid-twenties to become this. A dad, I guess. When I go downstairs after close-up to catch up with Rue and introduce her to the baby, an energetic, lively blonde girl who looks to be about Rue's age peers at Analiese's face and smiles a huge, white grin. Her bright blue eyes are warm and loving, and she looks like she could be my long-lost sister.

"Hi!" she chirps. "I'm Prim Everdeen. Nice to meet you." She smiles, but there's a strange glint in her eye that makes me feel that she might recognize me from somewhere.

I smile back at her invitingly, to let her know I'm relaxed here. "Peeta Mellark. And it's nice to meet you, too."

"Your baby's adorable," Prim coos. "Rue told me about what you're doing, and I think it's incredible. Really."

I know she's being sincere so I try not to be too hurt by the thought of Annie and Finnick. I haven't even had a chance to sit down and properly grieve them yet, but I smile and thank her anyway.

"Rueberry, I missed you."

She raises her eyebrows at the nickname but smiles all the same. "She's beautiful, Peeta. Promise me I can watch her sometime?"

"Promise," I laugh.

Nights are rough.

As days pass, I learn the ins and outs of real parenthood. Which means waking up every two hours to feed a hungry, crying little baby. Which means not only heating up some milk but also rocking her what seems like half the night in nothing else but _her_ rocking chair, a white plush one that Delly picked out for the basically empty, still-in-progress nursery. And then, as I rock her, she slowly falls asleep and I find myself humming the Valley Song, a slightly off-key, awkward singing that makes Lissy relax almost instantly and gives me the feeling that this really is it: she's my daughter. With the moon filtering in and it being so dark outside, I usually find it almost relaxing and comforting, like the reassuring familiarity of going home for a holiday. Every night, this is our routine, and it finally makes me feel like I have some normality, even if I am dead-tired and become exhausted even without starting full-time at the bakery yet. I focus on her, making her happy and giving her what she needs, to ignore the fact that I still haven't gone through the things Finn left me or even spent a few days alone, away from this crazy, new life to really assess the situation.

I love spending time with Lissy. I mean, it seems impossible that I already love her more than anything else just because she grasps my thumb with her little tiny fingers and makes it known that she prefers me over Delly, Madge, or anyone else. Haymitch is a close second though. My little name for her has stuck, too.

But there are some nights when even with another little beating heart next to mine, I feel so alone.

After the first week, I told Madge and Delly they couldn't keep treating me like a child by pampering me and helping me through every night. Besides, I wanted the authentic parent experience: the late nights that somehow mean the world and the constant feedings and diaper changes. My favorite part of the night quickly becomes sitting with the baby in my arms right after she's fallen asleep and before I put her in her crib. Her little pink eyelids always flutter so rapidly, and I can't help but wonder if I'm giving her a good enough little life that she dreams of me and thinks of me as her world. It's then too that I realize the littlest things about her that make her perfect, or things that remind me of Finn and Annie that make me smile. Like the way her nose curves into a little tiny button at the end just like Annie's did, or the way she has one tiny, almost invisible birthmark shaped like a heart underneath a few wispy, brown hairs that have grown in on her head. And strangely enough, I can even recognize so much of Finnick's facial structure in her.

I try to find things about her that look like me, too. Maybe her lips, or her smile.

As the months wear on and a harsh winter turns into a blistering summer, Lissy's personality asserts itself and she starts sleeping better at night, which means I start working at the bakery again part-time while Haymitch either brings Lissy to the back kitchen and plays with her while she stares at me as I bake, or he keeps her up in the loft, takes her to the zoo, goes on walks with her. I'm there for most of it honestly because I have a fear of missing out on any milestones; in six months, I've become a dad. After I work, I go home and want nothing more than to cuddle up with her and have a quiet night in.

I went through Finn's things, I did. He left me his old yearbooks and strangely enough, his cologne bottle that he wore in high school that I used to give him shit for. And I bawled my eyes out when I found that stupid black bottle that smelled like suffocating cinnamon. I'm not really over it, not yet. But it's hard to really feel the hurt day by day like I did with my dad because Lissy occupies so much of my mind and time. Maybe this is what Finn would've wanted: for me to be so occupied that I could only feel the hurt late at night, once the baby's asleep, and I realize I'm alone.

Great friends, great family for the most part, and a beautiful, sleeping baby.

But my best friend is gone. And she's his baby. And sometimes I still feel like somehow talking to Finn just to tell him that I'm trying my hardest, but I can't help wondering what it would be like if he was still here, married to Annie, their baby living in a whole, happy family and not stuck with some twenty-something in a loft downtown.

And sometimes when I think about that loneliness late at night, I wish I had someone again. I haven't had sex since those God-awful times when I fucked a girl a Christmas just to cope with the pain of my dad's death, and not that it's just sex I'm looking for. I wish I had someone I was even slightly interested in, but the truth was that I'd missed almost all of the Friday night drinks, despite my friends' protests. Delly and Madge and Johanna and Gale still came over or we still went out during the day, but always with Lissy. My life revolved around her, and I was perfectly happy with that. My baby made me happy.

It wasn't until one night, when Haymitch was upstairs for dinner with me and the baby that he mentioned my apparent "fucking uncharacteristic, anti-social behavior."

"This is damn good pasta, boy. What the hell is in here?"

I chuckle. "A pesto sauce, sun-dried tomatoes, shrimp-"

"Okay, you know I didn't actually care to hear the whole list. I mean, it's good, but I don't really care what I'm eating. And you know me, I don't make shitty conversation like that. I did that because I actually wanted to talk to you about something."

I'm wary now. I know Johanna teases me and calls me Daddy and that Delly and Madge worry I'm not happy, but it's stranger, more serious somehow, coming from Haymitch.

"What would you like to talk about then?" I ask.

"You, and the fact that you're friends are worried as hell. And frankly, so am I. Look, boy, I know you love that little girl. All of us do. But you've got to realize sooner or later that every once in a while, if you want to end up happy and healthy and whatever other shit Delly told me to mention, you have to pay attention to yourself. Go out every once in a while, or I don't know, get laid. But Peeta I won't watch you give up who you are for your daughter. You're family."

I'm at first a little shocked by his blunt and honest confession, laced with a little uncharacteristic emotion too. Then, I feel so tired suddenly.

"Haymitch," I sigh, "It's different now. I have the baby, and I'd rather stay home with her than go out. I'm in no mood to go home with some random girl or…"

"Kid, I didn't ask you to become the town's single-dad-slut. I don't know, do that normal shit you used to do before the baby. Date someone every once in a while. Find some overly-social, pretty blonde girl."

"But my priorities are so different now, and I'm happy. Seriously."

"Shit, kid. You are different. You know, it won't kill you every once in a while to still be Peeta the social friend and not Peeta the father. That's good for you every once in a while."

I just stare blankly because I know that as much as I want to deny Haymitch, he always ends up being right. These past months have been non-stop commotion, and I've sort of been hanging on for dear life as Lissy basically, only at six months old, wears the pants in the family. Everything I do revolves around her and her schedule, and I've been so busy with her that I know I've neglected the things I used to love too much lately. Like painting, or spending my Sunday afternoon making a whole batch of cheese buns and having a few friends or my brothers over just to celebrate the day off and catch up. I don't do much but drag myself out of bed exhausted to go work in the bakery for eight hours before coming back upstairs to Haymitch and then immediately wanting to spend time Lissy. Even though Lissy is getting older and isn't as fussy at all during nights, I still find it hard to get more than a few hours of sleep without worrying about her. I worry too that I'm doing all of this wrong. That I'm not what she needs. And sometimes, if it's been a really late night, I worry about me. About the fact that I still haven't gone over to Annie and Finn's place before its sold now that their parents have cleared their belongings out, and that some part of me still wants to deny they're gone, even though their absence is like a physical pain that squeezes my heart and makes it ache.

I miss them so much, and I just wish I didn't feel so alone in this. Delly and Madge and Johanna have been the best support I could ever ask for, and Thom and Cinna and Gale and my brothers too, but sometimes I just wish Finn was still here to make me laugh harder than I ever have or that Annie was here to reassure me with her calm, quiet demeanor.

I haven't had time to mourn them at all. And that scares me. It's not healthy, and sometimes, I worry I'm going to crack, eventually. One of these late nights… it's going to come crashing down on me, and that I won't be prepared.

My impending panic is interrupted by Haymitch's voice again.

But you miss your friends, or at least seeing them outside of these Goddamn walls without the baby. Come on. I'll watch Annie Bananie this Friday night, and you can do your whole drinks thing with your friends. Johanna's forcing you to come, anyway. She knew I'd have no problem kicking your ass out the door."

"Okay, first off, stop calling Lissy something like Annie Bananie: you're going to confuse me and the poor baby. That's like a whole different name. Also, since when were you scheming with Johanna about this?"

"Since yesterday. Now shut up and eat your damn pasta. You're going out tomorrow."

To say I'm anxious is an understatement.

Haymitch is—begrudgingly- sober because he knows he has to watch the baby tonight, but I'm still having trouble actually walking out the door and leaving my daughter (since when did that sound so natural on my tongue?) with him. Not because I don't trust him, but because I haven't gone out for drinks on one single Friday night since Lissy was born, even though my friends pestered me constantly. Now that I am going out, I'm terrified of leaving Lissy because nighttime is my special time with her, and because she's never really been without me at night. I'm also a little nervous for me though. Going out, dressing presentably, drinking and pretending to care about the whole social scene of many twenty-somethings that revolves around going home after the bar or club for a good lay.

It's strange how quickly my life has flipped upside down.

"Haymitch, are you sure you're going to be okay with her?"

"I watch her almost every day while you work. We'll be fine. And look, I've even got this scary-ass little doll thing that plays the music."

"It's a glo-worm." I have to chuckle at that.

"Whatever the hell it is. Now go!"

"Don't forget about all the emergency numbers I wrote down-"

"They've been there for the past six months. Stop being some overprotective, weird-ass. It's making me feel uncomfortable. Goodbye." He slams the door in my face.

So, twenty minutes later, I'm walking into Abernathy's, that Haymitch has gracefully let Effie take over while he helps me out. It's buzzing like it always is on Fridays, and it takes me maybe a second to spot my friends at our usual table. Delly's wearing a bright silver, sequined top that's noticeable to say the least and her bright red lipstick, and Johanna's voice is so loud that it's not hard to find her. They're all listening to something Johanna's saying, and as my eyes swoop over the group, I start to wind through the crowd a little faster. I'm realizing how much I've missed doing this with my friends.

Delly notices me first.

"Peeta! Oh my God, I can't believe you actually came!" I'm enveloped in a bear hug, and there's that rosy perfume again. "I knew Haymitch would be able to convince you! Oh my God, it's so nice to see you like this, away from all that spit-up!"

I smile awkwardly. "Um, thanks, Del."

"There's our baby daddy." Johanna gives a suggestive wink, and Madge just simply hugs me tightly.

After Delly's fussed over getting me something to drink for a good five minutes, I start talking to Gale and Thresh.

"So, how is it?" Thresh asks. "I mean, Rye told me you're like super-dad."

I shake my head and laugh. "Yeah, Rye's delusional. I mean, she's great. Yeah, I love her. Super-dad? I think that's pushing it a little far."

"I'm sure you're great," Gale says gruffly.

"But you look exhausted, Peet." Thresh's eyes are understanding. There's no pity there at all, which is what I love the most about him.

And there's no point in lying.

"Yeah, I am. I mean, I won't lie. It's not easy, you know? I never really saw myself like this while you all are still, well, like _this_. You guys have been like the best, though. And having Haymitch has helped a lot. Effie just started sending clothing packages for her, too, which means I have way too many baby clothes in the house."

Gale laughs, and so does Thresh.

"But how are you doing? Minus the baby and daddy duties and all that? Just you?"

"I'm fine," I say. Because I don't really know how else to respond. _Yeah, you know I still haven't grieved my friends but I have this baby who is my daughter and who I love so much that I've just decided to shut the rest of the world out, which I guess is unhealthy?_

I don't really feel like now's the proper time to say something like that. And Thresh senses my discomfort in answering so he moves on to another topic quickly.

I feel a tap on my shoulder not a minute later, and when I turn to look to the side, Johanna's simply raising her eyebrows at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing, you jackass, don't be so obvious."

"What?" I repeat. Nothing about anything Jo says makes sense sometimes.

Then, her facial expression completely changes and she smiles an obviously staged smile. "Get me my drink, would you? It's over on the table."

I think her request, along with her tone of voice, is off, especially because she's asking and not commanding in the first place, but I do it anyway.

And there at the table, right next to Jo's tell-tale, tall glass of vodka, is a girl I'm surprised to see.

She must've started coming out on Friday nights when I was at home with the baby, because I've never seen her here. But she is oddly familiar, and there's a strange glint in her large, calculating gray eyes when we lock stares that makes me think she recognizes me, too.

And I can't avoid the fact that she's one of the most beautiful people I've ever seen.

She's wearing a hunter green tank top and even though she's sitting down, I can just barely make out the fabric of her dark jeans. Her hair is tied in a simple braid, but the waves of dark, chocolate hair curl around her angular, olive-skinned face and frame it perfectly. Her lips are full and glossy, and she seems to be wearing hardly a drop of makeup, despite her flawless skin and dark eyes. Her face is almost screwed up into an unpleasant scowl, and for a fleeting moment I wonder what put it there.

Most of all though, I notice her eyes, striking and swirling like a tumultuous, gray thunderstorm, boring into mine.

Delly had been talking with her, but now that I've been standing here staring for a few beats too long, their conversation has stopped.

I recover as best I can, and clear my throat. "Hey."

 _Wow, Peeta. Nice job. Very articulate. You sound like you're in high school._

She tucks one of the stray pieces of her braid back into place behind her ear. "Hi."

Delly then chooses this moment to mercifully intervene. "Peeta, this is Katniss Everdeen. She works with Jo."

 _Katniss_. Even her name is captivating.

"Nice to meet you, Katniss," I say, thankfully regaining my knowledge of how to speak semi-normally. But that name… isn't that a plant?

I don't realize I've said this last part out loud until Delly laughs and Katniss actually cracks a tiny smile.

"Yeah," she says. "It is. A root, actually."

So she's detailed in her answers. I like that. "Good to know," I say. Then: "Well, I'm supposed to be bringing Jo her drink, so I'll see you sometime tonight, I'm sure. It was really nice-"

"Oh, no, don't worry about it!" Delly interjects too quickly. "I'll bring it to her. It's no big deal. You guys stay put, and I'll be right back."

Delly scrambles out of her chair before either of us can say anything, and in the process, forgets what I know to be Jo's drink on the table anyway. I'm looking at Katniss and feeling a little uncomfortable because it's obvious Delly is trying to shove us together for unknown, probably-strange reasons. I haven't done something like this in a while, but I've usually been pretty good at starting conversation. So that's what I plan to do.

If only her eyes weren't seemingly boring into mine, and she wasn't biting those plump, glossy lips... Maybe I wouldn't stutter trying to speak.

I look over one last time at Delly, and she's standing next to Johanna innocently, subtly throwing glances our way, smiling a tiny smile. And as I turn back to Katniss to try to make conversation, I can sense Delly's eyes on us once again.

It's going to be a long night.

 **Tada! Hope you like it and appreciate this longer update since it took a while to get this posted. Please tell me your lovely thoughts!**


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